<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>One Breath of the Sea; One Taste of the Brine by i_eat_men_like_air</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29830038">One Breath of the Sea; One Taste of the Brine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_eat_men_like_air/pseuds/i_eat_men_like_air'>i_eat_men_like_air</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(And Trans Author), Allusions to Period Typical Transphobia, And They Were Flatmates (Oh My God They Were Flatmates), Cunnilingus, Fluff, Internalised Transphobia, M/M, Mild Angst, Penis In Vagina Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon Fix-It, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Trans!Stanley, Vaginal Fingering</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:00:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,228</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29830038</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_eat_men_like_air/pseuds/i_eat_men_like_air</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Stanley is trying to have some ~me time~ but then several things happen and it turns into ~McDonald time~ as well.<br/>Written for The Terror Bingo prompt 'In Flagrante Delicto' (and that's a bingo!)<br/>Title taken from You're Mine by Show of Hands.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexander McDonald/Stephen S. Stanley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Terror Bingo</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>One Breath of the Sea; One Taste of the Brine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>CWs: mention of gender dysphoria; descriptions of internalised transphobia (overcome by the power of a nice Scottish man). <br/>Stanley’s genitals are referred to as cunt and prick.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Oh my love I was drowning in sight of the shore</em>
  <br/>
  <em>You brought me round you revived me</em>
  <br/>
  <em>And now I want more</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Of the fishes and the caves tumbling down</em>
  <br/>
  <em>The tides and the waves are throwing me around</em>
  <br/>
  <em>One breath of the sea</em>
  <br/>
  <em>One taste of the brine</em>
  <br/>
  <em>And I was yours and you were mine</em>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>You're Mine - Show of Hands</em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>It was not an indulgence he often allowed himself. Living on a ship surrounded by over a hundred other men, with only a thin, wooden door providing a semblance of privacy, and a perpetual requirement to be alert in case of disaster, had left behind a constant, nagging feeling that he would be interrupted, humiliated, or exposed as <em>other </em>if he allowed it. </p><p>Now, having returned from the ridiculous venture, Stephen knew - logically - that he would not be interrupted; there was a lock on his bedroom door, and a further lock on the front door he shared with Alexander. Still though, as he lay in bed, with his hand up his nightshirt, moving in a jarring, shameful fashion, the fear of interruption made any kind of release near-impossible. </p><p>He huffed, frustrated, and wiped his hand on his nightshirt with a frown. The absolute <em>worst </em>thing that could happen here was for Alexander to catch him at it, he reasoned, sitting up and crossing his legs; that, truly, was not such a horrible prospect. The other doctor would chuckle, and tease, but he would not attack him, and he would not mock him unkindly. Nothing that man did was unkind, much to Stephen’s neverending irritation. </p><p>Alexander had said he would be out for most of the evening at some event or other, and Stephen had assumed he would be able to find some small pleasure in his time alone - such a ridiculous, unnecessary desire - but now he found his mind wandering away from the task at hand, and his body (treacherous, frustrating thing) was not cooperating either. </p><p>He looked down at his nightshirt and closed his eyes in silent shame and irritation, at the wet patch that had begun to bloom on the pale fabric. It would fade, yes, but the damp, sticky reminder of his failure to pleasure even himself was not one he needed to be confronted with. </p><p>Stephen pulled the sweat and slick damp shirt over his head and tossed it in the wash basket with a sigh. There was a gentle, residual throb in his prick, and he glared down at his body; if it would not provide him with some form of release then it had no right creating such urges, in his opinion. </p><p>He needed a new nightshirt, now, and he stepped lightly across the room to pull one from the chest of drawers that sat by the desk; he didn’t like to step heavily - the shape of his flesh was difficult enough to deal with when it was static, let alone when it moved of its own accord if his feet fell too aggressively. </p><p>He opened the relevant drawer, and bit down a curse. Of course it was empty. Tomorrow was wash day, as assigned by Alexander in a fit of motherly scheduling, and that had been his last fresh shirt. </p><p>He peered over at the wash basket and sighed, rubbing his hands across his face. Perhaps Alexander had a spare, just for the night. Stephen pulled on his dressing-gown, wrapping the cord loosely around his waist and unlocking the door, before padding softly over to Alexander’s room.</p><p>He knew the man wouldn’t mind; he was so relaxed it put Stephen’s teeth on edge, but it still felt like an illicit thing, entering his bedroom without permission. In truth, even entering his bedroom <em>with </em>permission felt bizarre, like catching a glimpse of a man’s chest when his shirt was not buttoned correctly. </p><p>He chided himself silently for being so foolish, and pushed the door open, turning up the lamp, pushing back the shadows, and revealing the gentle chaos of his colleague’s room. It was not <em>messy</em>, exactly, but there were piles of books (arranged alphabetically) and clothes (poorly folded, but folded nevertheless) on every available surface; the bed was unmade, soft blue sheets tangled at the foot of it, pillows messy at the head, and there was that familiar smell in the air: all cedar and lavender and Alexander. Stephen rolled his eyes as he stepped into the room and shut the door carefully, picking his way through assorted piles that covered the floor until he reached Alexander’s chest of drawers.</p><p>After a moment of fumbling around, looking for the correct drawer, Stephen pulled out one of the (surprisingly numerous) nightshirts that looked as if it would fit him. Alexander was a couple of inches shorter than him, but he was a similar (as similar as was possible, for a normal man) shape to Stephen, and the shirt looked voluminous enough that it would cover his body in the way he needed. That is, it would cover it completely, and leave everything to the imagination; the tight cut of men’s fashion was difficult enough to endure in the unflinching light of day, let alone when he was meant to be ‘relaxing’. </p><p>He pulled off his dressing gown and pulled the shirt over his head, shaking his arms a little until it settled over him in a suitably shapeless manner. Immediately, he was hit with a wall of the scent: the familiar, comforting smell of the man he shared a flat with (it <em>was </em>comforting, although he would never admit it out loud). Warm lavender, hand in hand with even warmer cedar, a trace of the oil he used on his hair. </p><p>It all but knocked Stephen to the floor, and he lifted a shaking (why in the <em>world </em>was it shaking?) hand to brush over the cotton, pressing the collar shirt to his face and breathing in, deeply. The soft, heady scent filled his nostrils, and he closed his eyes, inhaling deeper and deeper until he could smell nothing else. </p><p>His relationship with Alexander was entirely platonic. It <em>was</em>. But, every so often, he would find his gaze lingering a little longer than was proper on the curve of the man’s neck, the arch of his fingers, the angle of his shoulders, and he would feel his pulse quicken shamefully. Alexander was a handsome man: all broad shoulders and crinkled, bright smiles; thick hair that stuck up at endearing angles when he ran his hands through it; and his manner was always so kind. Far kinder than Stephen felt he deserved. </p><p>He sighed into the fabric, rubbing it over his face, barely registering the way the shirt swayed over his body as a breeze brushed against it. He froze. A breeze? Oh <em> God</em>, a breeze.</p><p>Stephen whipped round with a well-practiced glare, just in time to see Alexander McDonald’s lovely face settle into an expression of curious amusement. </p><p>‘Good evening, Stephen,’ his eyes twinkled as he spoke, and Stephen would have gladly flung himself out of the window.</p><p>‘Alexander.’</p><p>‘You appear to be in the wrong room…’ Alexander’s voice was soft, teasing, and his grin widened slightly as Stephen bristled, ‘<em> and</em>, you appear to be wearing one of my shirts. <em> And </em>looking rather nice in it to boot! I always thought blue was your colour.’</p><p>Stephen’s entire body felt as if it were falling in on itself, every quivering inch of every bone, every organ, ready to collapse and disappear into the floorboards.</p><p>Alexander stepped towards him with a chuckle, shucking off his jacket and tossing it onto the bed with an easy grace that made Stephen hot with envy, ‘I don’t mind at all, dear Stephen, but I would quite like to know <em> why </em> you are in such an odd position, if you don’t mind?’</p><p>Stephen felt his face flush, cursing his skin for the second time that night, and willed his voice to remain level as he replied, ‘I found myself in need of a fresh nightshirt, <em> dear </em> Alexander. I did not think you would mind.’</p><p>Alexander hummed softly, appraising Stephen as if he were a coat in a shop window, rather than a man frozen solid, gripped in the rigours of mortal embarrassment. </p><p>‘A fresh nightshirt, eh? What on Earth have you done with all of yours then, to draw you out into my little corner of the flat?’ </p><p>‘I have <em> worn </em> them, Alexander, get your mind out of the gutter.’</p><p>Alexander chuckled softly, stepping towards Stephen with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. His face was flushed pink, his eyes were sparkling, the creases around them deep and welcoming; he had been drinking, clearly, and Stephen sighed.</p><p>‘You’re drunk,’ he said, crossing his arms across his chest - more from habit than any need to conceal himself from Alexander; the man was well aware of <em>what </em>he was. </p><p>‘<em>Doctor Stanley!</em>’ Alexander breathed out in mock horror, ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, I would never come home <em>drunk</em>!’</p><p>Stephen nodded, arching an eyebrow, ‘Yes, doctor, and you were also born in London, to a family of flying pigs.’</p><p>Alexander’s smirk broadened to a wide, cheerful grin, and he clapped a hand on Stephen’s shoulder with a laugh. Stephen flinched at the contact, still unused to how easily the man touched him after all these years, and he felt his stomach drop as Alexander looked at him with a concerned tilt of his head.</p><p>‘Is everything alright, Stephen?’ his voice was soft, his accent light and lilting with drink, ‘is there anything I can do?’</p><p>Stephen looked up at him sharply, his face settling into a familiar frown at the man’s tone.</p><p>‘I would help, you know, with anything you needed. You <em> do </em> know that, do you not, Stephen?’ Alexander murmured, plucking at the collar of the nightshirt with delicate, dancing fingers.</p><p>Stephen rolled his eyes, stepping back quickly as Alexander’s fingers began to wander a little lower and wincing as he collided with the chest of drawers. </p><p>He knew that Alexander tended to flirt a little when he had been drinking, but he had never flirted with <em>him</em>; he hadn’t dared, from what Stephen could surmise, had been too concerned that Stephen would react in a negative manner. </p><p>Now, though, as Alexander’s eyes wandered over his face and chest, he considered - for a moment - that he may have been wrong in his assumption. He didn’t like to be proven wrong - it came from a lifetime of having to prove himself as <em>enough </em>for the world around him - but looking at Alexander, his eyes shining in the low lamplight, he wondered if he might not mind being proven wrong, on this account. </p><p>Alexander took another step towards him, this time tilting his head to one side - a question, answered by a stiff nod from Stephen - before reaching out and running a fingertip over his collarbone, exposed by the loose neckline of the nightshirt.</p><p>‘You <em>do </em>look rather fetching in my nightshirt, Stephen,’ Alexander said, softly, pressing forward until his chest bumped against Stephen’s folded arms. </p><p>‘You are drunk, Alexander,’ Stephen murmured in reply, cursing the tinge of sadness that crept into his voice. </p><p>Alexander reached out a finger and traced a line down the side of Stephen’s face with a soft, sweet smile, ‘Oh, I’m hardly drunk, darling. And <em> besides</em>, I could be the soberest man in all the world and still think you quite a <em> lovely </em> sight to behold.’</p><p>Stephen blinked, face stuck in a cycle of irritation, disbelief, and desire, until he took a firm hold of himself and sighed, ‘Hardly that, Alexander.’</p><p>With a fond grin, Alexander swatted him gently on the arm, ‘For a dashingly intelligent man, <em> Doctor</em>, you can be rather dense. Now, stay still, there’s a lad, and allow me to demonstrate.’</p><p>With that, and not waiting for a reply, Alexander wrapped his arms around Stephen’s waist, and kissed him. Stephen stiffened - stunned, aroused - his arms still folded across his chest, until Alexander moaned quietly into his mouth, and he felt himself - inch by inch - melt into the touch, honey soaking into freshly made bread. </p><p>He unfolded his arms carefully, shivering at the soft, wet feeling of the man’s mouth against his own. Alexander moaned luxuriantly as Stephen wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling their bodies tightly together and kissing him in return.</p><p>Stephen had not kissed many people over the years; his physicality had forced him to be cautious about those he took to bed (he did not count those kissed or slept with when he appeared as a young woman) so this feeling of Alexander pressing up against him, grasping at him with those ridiculous, large, gentle hands, made his head spin.</p><p>His head felt as if it would spin off, when Alexander pulled away and absolutely <em>beamed </em>up at him - pleased as Punch. Stephen shook his head and allowed himself a small smile, the fondness he felt for the man overcoming any concern for the positioning of his usual stern, utterly composed mask. </p><p>‘You taste like whisky, Doctor McDonald.’</p><p>‘I should certainly hope so, Doctor Stanley,’ Alexander chuckled warmly, and pressed a gentle kiss to Stephen’s cheek, ‘and I have an awful lot to demonstrate yet, darling, so perhaps we should take this somewhere more comfortable.’</p><p>He inclined his head towards the bed, not releasing his careful hold on Stephen’s waist, and Stephen swallowed loudly as a shiver of desire ran down his spine and pooled in his core - his prick jumping with anticipation. Stephen nodded, trying to force some of the tension from his spine.</p><p>Alexander knew what he would look like under the nightshirt, but there was an ocean of difference between <em>knowing </em>and <em>seeing</em>. Stephen twitched nervously as Alexander led him to the bed and sat him on the edge, shuffling to stand between his legs and cupping his face gently. </p><p>‘We’ll do nothing you don’t desire, my dear,’ Alexander pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and Stephen scoffed.</p><p>‘For Heaven’s sake, Alexander, I am not some blushing virgin to be petted and reassured,' the sternness of the words was ruined somewhat by a hitch in his voice, as Alexander pressed his knee against his prick. </p><p>‘You <em>are </em>blushing though, darling,’ Alexander grinned, carding a hand through Stephen’s thinning, strawberry-blonde hair as he leaned forwards to kiss him again.</p><p>Alexander’s mouth was warm and gentle against his own, soft lips and carefully exploring tongue pressing into Stephen’s mouth and pulling him apart. Piece by gentle piece. Stephen groaned as Alexander’s knee pressed harder against his prick, and he glared into the kiss as he felt Alexander chuckle.</p><p>‘You’re making quite a mess of my nightshirt, darling,’ he breathed out, looking down to where his knee was leaning against Stephen.</p><p>Stephen frowned up at him, ‘You are making the mess, <em> darling </em>.’</p><p>Alexander placed a peck to the tip of his nose, laughing softly at Stephen’s indignant expression, and whispered into his ear, ‘Hardly a mess - yet.’</p><p>Stephen swallowed heavily as Alexander licked a soft, warm line up the side of his neck, arching his back into the sensation; his prick throbbing insistently between his legs, an unpleasant reminder of where this ridiculous evening had begun. </p><p>He let out a soft grunt as Alexander winked, and hopped up to straddle his hips, his cockstand suddenly pressing up against Stephen’s stomach. Stephen looked down, more as a reaction than anything else (it was <em>not </em>curiosity), seeing the firm outline of the other man straining against his trousers.</p><p>Alexander cupped his face again, pulling his gaze away from his hardness, and kissed him softly. Stephen swallowed a whimper as Alexander began to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along his cheek and neck, nibbling softly at the skin beneath his ear; he would not <em>whimper</em>, it was undignified.</p><p>He felt Alexander’s hands begin to move clumsily, and pulled back for a moment to see the man attempting to pull his waistcoat and shirt off as one. Stephen sighed, and watched for a moment before taking pity on the wriggling idiot; he quickly undid Alexander’s buttons, and yanked off all of the (warm, sweet-smelling, lovely) layers before tossing them on the floor. </p><p>Alexander grinned his thanks and rubbed a thumb over Stephen’s bottom lip, following it quickly with a kiss. Stephen, barely having a moment to take in the broad, soft body of the man above him, shivered as he felt Alexander’s bare chest rub up against his own - the only barrier now being the damp, pale cotton of the nightshirt. </p><p>He reached between them, undoing the buttons of Alexander’s trousers, and pulling his prick free with a shaky hand. Alexander bucked up against him with a startled moan, before looking down and chuckling, ‘You’re an eager chap, aren’t you, Stephen.’</p><p>Stephen hummed, noncommittally, and leaned back to get a look at the cockstand that had been poking a hole in the nightshirt, keeping a hand loosely wrapped around it. Long, thick (but not <em>too </em>thick), flushed a charming shade of pink, with a thick vein running crookedly up the underside towards the sensitive, velvet soft crown; Stephen was not a man who often sought to have a cock in his mouth, but for this, he might make an exception. It didn’t hurt that when he tightened his grip, Alexander’s head fell forward and rested on his shoulder, panting heavily.</p><p>‘Stephen - <em> ah </em> - <em> Stephen </em> ,’ Alexander’s voice was almost stern, for a moment, and Stephen stopped his exploration with a frown, ‘as - <em> ah </em> - as much as I appreciate your <em> attentions </em> - and you have such <em> lovely </em>hands, you know - I believe I promised you something a little different, did I not?’</p><p>Stephen’s frown deepened, and he looked at Alexander with an uncomfortable mixture of lust and concern. </p><p>‘Don’t look so worried, dear, I have a feeling you’ll enjoy yourself,’ Alexander winked at him again, with a soft, creased smile, ‘but I will have to remove this nightshirt, if I’m to get anything done. Is that alright?’</p><p>Alexander sat, patiently despite his exposed cockstand and the fact he was still very much in Stephen’s lap, waiting for Stephen to formulate a reply. </p><p>Stephen felt another rush of fear sink into his stomach; he doubted Alexander would push him away, or react badly to his appearance, but he also sincerely doubted that the man really knew what he was getting himself into. His body, in his expert opinion, was not something to be caressed or admired with any real care or fondness; it was an ugly, awkwardly proportioned thing, with absences that made his heart clench when he was confronted with them, and swells of flesh that made him by turns furious and achingly sad. </p><p>Alexander was quiet, as he waited, a hand resting kindly on Stephen’s shoulder.</p><p>‘You can remove it,’ Stephen murmured, steeling himself for whatever reaction would come with the lifting of the veil - so to speak. </p><p>Alexander nodded with a smile, and shuffled back a little so he could pull up the bottom of the shirt. Stephen tried, desperately, not to appear as though he was on the edge of bolting from the room; not wanting Alexander to start petting him like a frightened kitten, but his hands still gripped, white-knuckled at the mattress, and his knees locked into place underneath the man in his lap. </p><p>Predictably, Alexander noticed his discomfort, and began to nuzzle at his neck like a puppy, kissing and licking and biting in turns; Stephen sighed, trying to maintain some level of control, his muscles painfully tense and clenching, but then Alexander ran his tongue over a particularly taut tendon in his neck and he felt his bones become gelatinous.</p><p>The nightshirt was lifted slowly, carefully, until a shock of air hit his prick, and the slit beneath it. Stephen hissed at the sensation, and he felt Alexander grin against his neck, a hand snaking down between them and brushing a line up the wet opening with the tip of his finger, pressing against the swell of Stephen’s prick with a chuckle, ‘Quite excited, already, aren’t you?’</p><p>Stephen pressed his face into Alexander’s bare chest and muttered quietly, ‘<em>I was already trying to....’ </em></p><p>‘Hm? What’s that, darling?’ Alexander looked down at him curiously.</p><p>‘I was already trying to - oh for God’s sake,’ Stephen gestured at his crotch, furious as he felt his cheeks flush red, ‘<em>get off</em>, as it were. Before you returned.’</p><p>Alexander’s eyes widened a fraction, and the lines around his mouth deepened into a teasing grin, ‘In <em> my </em>nightshirt, Stephen, goodness me!’</p><p>‘No not in your nightshirt, you ass, in my nightshirt. Hence the need for a clean one.’</p><p>Stephen glared at him, trying to muster some dignity (a difficult task for a man bared stomach to ankle).</p><p>Alexander's eyes were twinkling, ‘You got yourself all messy, then, eh?’</p><p>‘Oh <em>hardly</em>, Alexander,’ Stephen muttered with a frown, ‘I - <em>ugh</em> - I found myself... <em> unsatisfied</em>…’</p><p>He stared downwards, where Alexander’s prick stood proudly above his own - traitorous, small, so odd in comparison to that thick, fine length. Alexander’s eyes followed his gaze, trailing down Stephen’s exposed stomach until they reached his crotch, settling on the auburn curls that concealed his prick, as private and protective as brambles. </p><p>‘Unsatisfied, eh? Well, we can’t have that, can we darling…’ Alexander’s eyes twinkled as he brushed through Stephen’s curls and exposed his prick, ‘and with such a lovely cock as well.’</p><p>‘Don’t patronise me, Alexander,’ Stephen bit out, cursing the hitch in his voice.</p><p>Alexander fixed him with an uncomfortably open stare, green-grey eyes gentle and unflinching. Stephen held his gaze as best he could, even as Alexander slithered out of his lap and sank to the floor, but the moment the man’s hands came to a rest on his knees he felt his eyes flutter closed. He did not want to be confronted with whatever pity Alexander would feel for him when coming face to face to the situation between his legs. </p><p>Alexander’s hands pushed gently at his knees, questing, questioning, and Stephen finally acquiesced with a frustrated sigh; his legs falling open to expose his core to the strange, gentle man before him.</p><p>He looked down at Alexander, ready with an arch remark, entirely expecting a mix of medical curiosity and mild disgust, but stuttering silent to see an expression of absolute desire. Alexander looked up at him, eyes dark with lust, and grinned; a cat who had the proverbial cream.</p><p>The first lick to his core caused Stephen’s hips to jerk up unwittingly, chasing the sudden, hot, wet tongue. He allowed himself to fall back on the bed, lying flat and staring up at the white paint of the ceiling - jamming a shirtsleeve in his mouth and biting down as Alexander began to suck his prick in earnest. </p><p>It did not take long for Stephen’s hips to be thrusting up into Alexander’s mouth, unbidden, uncontrolled, it was as if his body had taken on a mind of its own (treacherous bloody thing) and was simply a vessel seeking sensation. Alexander moaned against him, any words muffled by Stephen’s prick in his mouth and the wet of his cunt beneath it.</p><p>Stephen’s teeth ground down onto the shirt, begging himself not to make a sound, legs and stomach trembling with the effort of staying quiet as Alexander suckled carefully on his throbbing, slick flesh. He balled his free hand into the blankets, clenching and unclenching by turns, until Alexander reached up and gently tugged it to his hair, pushing it against his scalp.</p><p><em> Christ</em>, Stephen shuddered as Alexander relaxed his efforts for a moment, pressing soft, wet kisses across the swell of Stephen’s stomach and the shivering muscles of his thighs. Stephen, hand now buried deep in soft, thick auburn locks, willed himself, desperately, not to simply shove the man’s face against his prick and fuck his mouth until he finished. He wanted, <em> God he wanted</em>, to finish, to reach that shaking, blessed relief he had failed to achieve alone.</p><p>Alexander - and Stephen would have let out a <em> sob </em>if his mouth had not been clamped down on his shirt (<em>Alexander’s shirt</em>) - teased the tip of his tongue over his prick, barely-there, nowhere near what he wanted (what he <em>needed</em>).</p><p>‘<em> Lovely </em>…’ Alexander’s breath ghosted over his cunt as he spoke, and Stephen twitched as he felt a finger trace over the opening, once again questing, questioning - so gently asking for permission it made a deep, tightly-locked place inside Stephen quake.</p><p>Alexander’s tongue was no longer on him, and now there was only a finger tracing the rim of his cunt, pressing against it but not entering, circling and exploring with such light pressure it made Stephen’s skin feel two sizes too small; with a furious realisation Stephen bared his teeth against the shirt: he was going to make him <em>ask </em>for it - stupid, kind, idiot bastard.</p><p>He would not ask. Alexander could do as he wished with him, but he would not ask for that man’s fingers. He would not. </p><p>Another breath brushed over his prick, and Stephen glowered silently as Alexander chuckled, softly, ‘Will you allow me in, darling? I’m going to need your permission before I fuck you onto my fingers, you know.’</p><p>Stephen swallowed, loudly, at the vulgar language - Alexander’s accent made it sound all the more obscene, thick and lilting by turns. He would not ask for it. He would -<em> ah </em></p><p>Alexander’s mouth was on him again, sucking gently at his prick - too gentle, maddening, aching - and tracing a line around his rim, following his fingertip. Alexander moaned against Stephen, pressing his mouth forward firmly and letting the sound rumble through his cunt, vibrating, shuddering. </p><p>Stephen shivered at the unfamiliar feeling, hips pressing forwards into it, seeking out <em>more</em>, and effectively spearing him on Alexander’s finger in one slick, hot movement. He gasped, loudly, at the sensation, and immediately bit down on his lip with a shamed, horrified whimper (like a dog in heat: horrible, needy). </p><p>The change in Alexander was immediate. The soft, careful licks and caresses were replaced by firm, purposeful strokes of his tongue; his finger quickly joined by a second and curling - causing Stephen’s hips to jerk off the bed as he brushed against that odd, spongy spot within him. </p><p>Stephen groaned as Alexander’s fingers pressed down hard on that spot - firm, confident pressure wringing the accursed noise from his lips. He threw his arm over his face, seeking some safety, some concealment, as he was so thoroughly taken apart by the man between his legs.</p><p>Alexander’s lips fastened around Stephen’s prick, sucking firmly, teasing at the tip of the damned thing with his tongue - his fingers speeding up impossibly within him, the wet, shameful squelching sounds of his movements filling the room as he pushed, and pushed, and pushed. </p><p>Stephen let out a <em> shout </em>as his crisis shook through him. Overwhelming, terrifying, entirely ecstatic: his body shuddered through it, his mind blissfully blank, his prick and his cunt pulsing into the sensation, Alexander’s face buried in his core.</p><p>He felt a firm, insistent burn at the crease of his thigh, unable to place it for a moment until he realised Alexander was sucking at the skin there. <em> Marking him</em>. Stephen shivered, the brief pliancy of his release quickly being replaced by that old, familiar, deep-rooted shame; embarrassment at his pleasure, and the reaction his body had to it. </p><p>‘Mmmm,’ Alexander hummed as he shuffled up Stephen’s body, ‘lovely, I think, really rather lovely indeed. Just gorgeous, aren't you?’</p><p>Stephen frowned up at him, suddenly very aware that Alexander’s prick was prodding insistently into his hip. Alexander chuckled, kindly, ‘I’ve never seen a man so tense, darling, whatever is the matter?’</p><p>Stephen looked away from him, head falling to one side in an attempt to avoid that seeking, soft gaze. </p><p>‘What is it, Stephen? Tell me,’ Alexander’s voice was at his ear, now, the whisper of warm breath chasing his words, ‘you can tell me anything, you know, anything you want. I’m - well - I’m <em> fond </em>of you, terribly fond of you, Stephen, surely you know that.’</p><p>Stephen looked up at him sharply, confronted with the flushed, easy face of his friend - mouth still slick with his release - simply watching him, eyes kind and crinkling at the edges, mouth turned gently upwards. </p><p>‘I’m <em>fine</em>, Alexander,’ he said, through gritted teeth.</p><p>Alexander raised an eyebrow, and bent to press a kiss to Stephen’s cheek, ‘Yes, and my family of pigs have been known to fly about these parts in droves, dear Stephen. Tell me what the matter is, please, love.’</p><p>Stephen twitched at the diminutive, staring up at Alexander in barely-concealed disbelief.</p><p>‘You know what I am, Alexander, clearly,’ he began, closing his eyes as he tried to string together a sentence that would explain himself, and satisfy the infuriating man laid atop him, ‘it is - <em> ugh </em> - it is <em>unpleasant </em>to be confronted with one's body when it is so - <em> Christ </em> - so <em>off</em>. So incorrect. Hardly the body of a man, is it? And then confronted with a form such as your own, Alexander, it is - <em> well </em>- it is...’ </p><p>Stephen’s voice trailed off, unsure of how to complete his explanation and an aching silence filled the room. He dare not open his eyes; he did not want to see pity on his friend’s face, and he felt that old, familiar tension settle into his stomach as he waited for whatever response Alexander would cook up. </p><p>‘Oh Stephen…’ Alexander’s voice was soft, and Stephen felt another kiss to his cheek, stubble brushing against his skin, ‘if you were jealous, all you had to do is ask.’</p><p>Stephen’s eyes snapped open, in time to see Alexander grinning down at him, green-grey eyes wide, mock-innocent, and filled with tears. </p><p>He was stunned for a moment, unsure of how to respond, until he felt an odd, bubbling sensation in his chest. It rose, up and up, until it spilled out of his mouth as a bark of laughter. It spilled, again and again, until he felt breathless with it, laughing into Alexander’s neck and clutching at him with eager hands as all the tension evaporated from his body.</p><p>‘Christ! Christ, you’re an idiot, you’re an absolute idiot, Alexander, the most idiotic man I’ve ever met,’ he breathed out, staring up at the idiot with a face that felt ten years younger - mask falling away.</p><p>‘Aye, perhaps I am, but you’re definitely more of an idiot than I am, love. Most gorgeous man in all of London and you’re worried about <em>my prick</em>. Moronic, I tell you, absolutely moronic,’ Alexander grinned down at him, and kissed him soundly, ‘such foolish behaviour from such a fine man. From <em> my </em> fine man.’</p><p>‘Oh I’m <em>yours </em>now am I?’ Stephen smirked back at him, his chest feeling as if it were filled with light.</p><p>Alexander nodded, ‘Utterly, inexorably mine, Stephen. No escaping that, I’m afraid.’</p><p>Stephen shook his head, brushing a hand carefully over Alexander’s face. Five minutes, was that really all it took? Five minutes of laughter with this man, to melt away so much fear, so much tension. All of his life, coloured by seething anger, jealousy, and terror by turns. Could it have all been solved with this? Really? </p><p>He did feel like a fool.</p><p>‘Stephen I can hear your brain ticking over, would you mind awfully telling it to stop?’ Alexander licked his lips, and grinned.</p><p>‘Of course, Alexander.’</p><p>‘Thank you, darling.’</p><p>Stephen sighed, and glanced down to where Alexander’s prick - while not quite at full mast, as it were - was still prodding at him.</p><p>‘Alexander.’</p><p>‘Yes, dear.’</p><p>‘Your cock appears to be burning a hole in this nightshirt.’</p><p>Alexander laughed and rolled off of Stephen with a wink, ‘Well if you will start panicking in the middle of such sensitive activities, Stephen…’</p><p>‘You are a fool, Alexander.’</p><p>‘And you are an idiot, Stephen, now will you let me take that bloody thing off?’</p><p>Alexander sat up against the pillows and began to pull at the nightshirt. But Stephen, suddenly overcome by a sense of absolute safety (<em>was this really all he needed? </em>), quickly made a decision, pulled it over his head, and threw it to the floor, before grabbing at Alexander’s trousers and underclothes and throwing them away too. </p><p>He stared at Alexander, all long legs and broad shoulders, and let a smile wander across his face. It was a strange, honeyed feeling, that pooled in his stomach, as he looked at the man. There was still that shimmering, green jealousy, yes, (Stephen considered that might never truly leave) but beyond that there was only warmth, enjoyment. Admiration, even, as he took in the lines and angles of Alexander’s body.</p><p>‘Do stop staring and kiss me, Stephen, for Heaven’s sake,’ Alexander said with a chuckle, holding out his arms - an invitation.</p><p>Stephen shook his head, fondly, and moved to lay atop his friend (<em>lover?</em>). He kissed him slowly, carefully, sucking on Alexander’s tongue and nibbling softly at his lips in turn; luxuriating in the easy, peaceful push and pull. </p><p>Alexander’s arms wrapped around him, and Stephen rested a hand on the man’s warm, broad chest with a smiling sigh. The other hand, inch by inch, snaked between their bodies until it brushed against the velvet-hot crown of Alexander’s prick. </p><p>‘<em> Oh…’ </em> Alexander breathed out, his head falling back against the headboard with a <em> thunk</em>, ‘Stephen, you needn’t if you don’t want to, <em> oh… </em>’</p><p>Stephen wrapped his hand around Alexander’s cockstand with a smirk, stroking it firmly and pressing a kiss to Alexander’s neck, ‘I think I <em> do </em>want to, if it’s all the same to you, Alexander?’ </p><p>Alexander moaned softly as Stephen moved to straddle him, his eyes all but disappearing into his face as he smiled up at him, ‘<em>Oh Stephen,</em>’ Alexander swallowed, heavily and his smile morphed into an easy, confident smirk, ‘if you insist.’</p><p>Stephen positioned himself carefully, tentatively, over Alexander’s prick; he had not done <em>this </em>in a great many years, let alone in such an exposed manner. Alexander stared up at him, face settled in an adoring, open expression that plucked at Stephen’s chest as he lowered himself down.</p><p>The stretch made his stomach flip, insistent, pulsing, as Alexander’s prick filled him. It was not painful, exactly, but the aching, unyielding pressure was indescribably intense; pushing into him until he felt the brush of Alexander’s stones against his backside. </p><p>Alexander’s eyes were wide, blown open with lust, and Stephen shivered; he felt <em>desirable </em>beneath that gaze. He had never felt <em>desirable </em>before. It made his prick throb, where it sat above the stretch of his cunt, this feeling of being <em>wanted</em>. Really, truly <em>wanted</em>. </p><p>‘Christ you’re tight, Stephen - <em> God </em> - I should’ve opened you up more, I -’ Alexander choked on his words as Stephen began to move, long, lean legs flexing on either side of his hips.</p><p>Stephen leaned forwards, bracketing Alexander with his arms, licking into his mouth with a groan as he slowly became acclimatised to the stretch in his cunt. </p><p>He did not rush. He fucked Alexander slowly, methodically, rolling his hips insistently until the man was a moaning, incoherent mess. It felt spectacular. Every nerve in his body sang as he impaled himself on Alexander, every inch of him alight, then burning, then roaring into a bonfire as Alexander’s fingers moved down and pressed against his prick.</p><p>Stephen groaned as Alexander frigged him, his hips jerking, fucking him intently, legs aching with the effort but overridden entirely by the ache of his prick. He wrapped his arms around Alexander’s neck, pressing his mouth to the flushed, hot skin as he fucked him.</p><p>He quivered as Alexander’s fingers pushed him over into another climax, insistent, assured, blissful pressure on his prick as his cunt clenched around Alexander.</p><p>Alexander moaned beneath him, arms pulling tight around Stephen, the sound of skin against skin - combined with slick, wet movement and hot, heavy breaths - filling the room, and Stephen’s eyes rolled back in his head as he felt Alexander spill into him with a warm, smiling, satiated sigh. </p><p>Stephen turned his head to look at his lover (his lover, now, without a doubt) and felt a flood of peace wash over him. Alexander was staring straight back at him, face open and coloured with absolute affection, cheeks flushed and hair sticking up at those adorably ridiculous angles that Stephen loved so much. </p><p><em> Loved</em>. Bloody hell. Stephen blinked in surprise at the word, and would have kicked himself in the head if he had not been so comfortable. <em> Of course it’s love, you idiot</em>.</p><p>‘I love you, Stephen, you do know that, don’t you?’ Alexander whispered, tapping a finger to the tip of Stephen’s nose with a soft smile, ‘I love you entirely, absolutely, you ridiculous, wonderful man.’</p><p>Stephen's form went slack against Alexander, feeling as if an invisible, imprisoning cage had been opened - releasing his strange, awkward, <em> loved </em>body into Alexander’s care. </p><p>He closed his eyes, giving himself over the warm, sweet-smelling haze of his lover, allowing the furious tension to swirl elsewhere in the room; for once not swallowing him up in its cruel, grey entirety. </p><p>Stephen sighed into Alexander’s chest, breathing in the man's scent, allowing peace and tranquility to wash over him as he murmured his reply, ‘And I love <em>you</em>, Alexander. Entirely. Absolutely.’</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>